


i've got lies to tell

by refined



Series: do this one favour for me [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:12:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5819155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/refined/pseuds/refined
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendan walks right by his own room then, pausing outside Chucky's. He wished they were still roommates and Brendan wouldn't spend nights away from home, alone in his own room. Without the calming awareness of Chucky being just a couple of steps away from Brendan. Not being able to listen to his breaths gradually become slower, while they even out. And oh God—Brendan is so fucked.</p><p>or: Brendan realizes he's in love with his best friend and it's both the best and worst thing ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i've got lies to tell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amaura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaura/gifts).



> ok this was supposed to be a short blurb but escalated very quickly. inspired by bren's postgame interview, its set the night after the game against st louis on jan 16th. also this is for ellie who's been yelling at me to post it so here you go, enjoy :)

The atmosphere on the bus which would take them from the arena to the plane, is eerily quiet, with only the sound of the players moving in the seats and a couple of yawns escaping their mouths. It's been another long night, and the Canadiens want nothing more than to be in Chicago already and sleep; the only way to forget about the game that just finished. 

Brendan's body feels numb, starting from the moment he left the locker rooms, to the moment he flopped onto one of the seats on the bus. He doesn't look up. He doesn't see his teammates faces as they each trudge to their seats and throw their heads back onto their headrests while letting out a deep sigh. He doesn't even notice the moment where Alex plops himself down, choosing to take the seat right next to Brendan—although he can't promise he'll be any form of pleasant company now.

They sit in silence for a bit; Brendan staring at the seat in front of him, thoughts running a mile a minute. Alex, on the other hand, won't stop moving. If he's not shifting in his seat every five seconds, he's leaning down to rummage through his bag. It's all very annoying to Brendan. He wants to be angry. He wants to yell at Alex and he wants to punch the cushion of the seat underneath him and he wants to scream, cry, and scream some more. This isn't fair. The game was not supposed to end like this, they deserved to win and they deserved to gain those points. Instead they lost. Again. And they're was nothing he could do besides sit here, and try not to lash out on his best friend.

Unfortunately, Alex chooses that moment to reach down to grab something—a water bottle maybe—and that's it. Brendan can't take it anymore. 

“Would you just stop that?” He grits out. It comes out harsh but fuck. Did he really have to move around so much?

Alex stops mid-way to returning to his original position. He turns to look at Brendan and furrows his eyebrows when he notices the scowl that's taken over the smaller man's face. 

“W-what?”

Brendan sighs and gives Alex an unimpressed look. “Of fucking course you don't understand what I mean. You. You're annoying me. Stop it.”

Brendan knows he's being a dick but can't help himself, he's sleep-deprived and really fucking upset that they just lost yet another game. 

He continues, “You wanna move fifteen hundred times in your seat, find a new one. It's distracting and annoying and I'm really ready to punch you in the face.”

The look on Alex's face after he finishes makes Brendan's heart sting a little. It's a mixture of a little shock and sadness, and a whole lot of hurt.

“I-I just didn't want to, uh, sit alone, you know. Thought maybe we could talk about, um, like stuff. And well I just thought-”

Alex is cut off by Brendan opening his big mouth up again. He really has to learn to shut up.

“I-um-I-um. Jesus, Chuck. You want people to think you're American when you can barely speak the fucking language. How about you stop moving, let me sleep, and I'll let you figure out how to string an English sentence together.”

Brendan regrets everything he says as soon as it leaves his mouth. God, he's such an asshole. And Alex obviously thinks so too now.

Alex's face does a couple of things, different emotions taking their time there, and Brendan's face changes to one of guilt. Alex looks about ready to say something, but stops quickly. He tucks his head down to his chest as he places his water bottle back in his bag and stands up. 

“Chuck I-”

But he doesn't stop. Brendan watches as he walks towards the front of the bus and takes the empty seat right next to Eller. Lars gives him an odd look, but when he glances back and notices Brendan's guilty face, the confusion is cleared up altogether. Great, now another person will think Brendan is the worst person to walk to the earth. 

Brendan can't even make himself feel better for the rest of the bus ride, concluding that the plane ride will be just as awful. He's sort of hoping that Alex will forgive him and sit next to him, but with one glance towards the seat where the older man sits, Alex reverts his eyes to Lars, once again, and plops down in the seat next to him. 

Brendan can't help the frustrated sigh that leaves his lips then. He really didn't want to go through the whole silent treatment thing, but it looks like this situation won't go in his favour. 

Nate walks by and notices the sour look that's taken its place on Brendan's face. He also notices the empty seat next to Brendan and has a second of confusion on his face—probably about the fact that Alex is not sitting there—before placing his own self there. 

“What's up, Gally?”

Brendan just turns around and faces the window, silently wishing they would take off already. He wishes they would be in Chicago and he wishes that Alex would talk to him again and they would win games and everything would be fine but it's just—not. 

“Woah. A little grumpy are we? That lover boy is over there talking to Larry, while you're stuck here with me? I mean, what's up with that anyway? I thought you to were as codependent as-”

Brendan whips his head around and glares at Nate. It doesn't do much effect, as Nate's smirk only deepens, and honestly. Fuck Nate. 

Brendan is now stuck on deciding whether to punch Nate in the face or turn away completely. He settles for changing the subject.

“How come you're not as depressed as the rest of the team tonight? It was a pretty big game, man. And we lost, so.”

Nate only shrugs his shoulders. “I mean, I am pretty beat up about it man, trust me. But everyone's already used up all the wallowing and self pity, so I'll settle for solving whatever you screwed up between you and Chucky.”

“I didn't screw up anything,” Brendan lets out with a scoff, knowing it was both stupid and useless to lie. Nate just gives him an unimpressed look and Brendan then gives in.

“I was just being a dick to him and I took it too far and now I don't know how to fix it,” Brendan lets out, all at once.

Nate rolls his eyes. “You two, I swear.”

Now it's Brendan's turn to roll his eyes and turn back around to face the window. He thinks maybe if he stays turned around long enough, Nate will let it go. His mind even thinks about telling Nate to move seats but quickly realizes that he'd rather not have all his friends hating him at once.

The hope that Nate would change subject or put in his earphones and forget the conversation, are thrown out the window when he punches Brendan's shoulder. Hard.

“Ow!” Brendan yelps and raises a hand to rub at his shoulder. “Fuck off.” He says and pushes Nate further away.

“Look, I know you're in a pissy mood. We all are. But you probably hurt Chucky's feelings, bad, and now you're not even trying to talk to him and apologize.”

Nate does have a point. Brendan could have tried harder to talk to Alex, especially when he knew what he said was completely douchebag-y. 

Honestly, fuck Nate.

Brendan is getting ready to stand up and walk over to where Alex and Eller are in what seems to be a deep conversation. Which—okay. Alex is totally allowed to have with other teammates who are not Brendan. And Brendan is not jealous, excuse you—even though he definitely is and Alex needs to stop this and forgive Brendan so they can go back to the way things were before. The subtle touches and the quick glances and shy smiles. It felt good, it felt right. Too bad Brendan had to go ahead and screw that all up. 

Nice one, he thinks. 

Anyway, he was going to march over and stop the little innocent, not-so innocent conversation that Alex seemed so interested in, but the seatbelt sign comes on then. Brendan's previous wish of the plane taking off, decides to come true right then and he's now planted on his seat, next to Nate's looks of pure amusement.

“You're jealous,” Nate laughs, then punches Brendan once more.

“I hate you.”

***

Brendan would have spoken to Alex on the plane when it finished its ascent and the seatbelt signs came off, if Alex wouldn't have fallen asleep. That's the only reason he didn't, he admits to Nate. It's definitely not because Brendan is a coward and is not ready to face hurt Alex and some yelling that was bound to tag along.

The plane ride from St. Louis to Chicago was short—approximately one hour—and Alex slept for the entire thing; waking up only when the seatbelt sign rung again and Brendan's ass was forced back into his seat. 

Once the plane had finished landing, he was quick to grab his bag and push his way past Nate's legs, in hopes he'll catch up with Alex and finally talk to him. No such luck, as Alex had already made his way off the plane, trailing after the one and only, Lars Eller.

“Why the hell are you jealous of Larry, man? He's got a wife and kid you know,” Nate tells him, once his eyes follow to where Brendan is currently glaring. 

Brendan releases an exasperated sigh, “It's just—fuck. I'm supposed to be the one that Alex sits next to and talks to. And I'm supposed to cheer him up after a terrible game. Instead, I can't get my head out of my ass long enough to not say something dumb.”

Nate starts laughing at him and Brendan gives himself three seconds to glare, before making his own way off the plane. Nate just laughs harder then, while Brendan thinks of what he ever did to deserve this terrible friend.

***

After the team arrives at the hotel and Pacioretty lets them head off with a, “Have a good night's sleep boys,” and they each receive a pat on the back from PK, they all make their separate ways to their rooms. 

Brendan walks right by his own room then, pausing outside Alex's. He wished they were still roommates and Brendan wouldn't spend nights away from home, alone in his own room. Without the calming awareness of Alex being just a couple of steps away from Brendan. Not being able to listen to his breaths gradually become slower, while they even out. And oh God—Brendan is so fucked.

The thing is, Brendan always knew that he felt something a bit more for Alex. He definitely liked him way more than the rest of the team, but he didn't think he like-liked him. Now looking back, it was all there. The way Brendan would light up when Alex walked through the locker room doors. How he would linger with his touches, a little longer than necessary. Brendan had been in love with Alex since the damn near beginning, and no one told him.

Instantly, Brendan is turned around and seconds later, finds himself banging the door of the room next to his own. He's sad and he's angry, for reasons he doesn't know, and he's going to yell if he would answer his d-

“What the fuck do you want?” The door swings open to reveal an exasperated Nate. 

Ignoring his glares, Brendan makes the way past Nate and stands in the middle of the room. He hears him sigh, close the door and turn around to face Brendan. 

“Let me repeat that again. What the fuck do you w-”

“Why didn't you tell me I was in love with Chucky?” Brendan blurts out the question quickly. He should be yelling, and demanding that he could've used a warning. A quick, “Hey bud. Just letting you know, we think you might be in love with your fellow rookie,” would've been just fine. 

He's also sort of hoping that Nate will just laugh and tell Brendan that he's not in love with Alex. Tell him he's being an idiot and go back to his room. Tell him that he didn't just yell and insult the guy he loves and screw up any chance he had of dating him. 

Nate seems to be surprised and Brendan's not sure why. 

“Are you seriously asking me this, man?” Nate finally answers, after what feels like eternity in Brendan's mind. 

After Nate realizes that Brendan's very serious about this, he stops. “I mean, we thought you knew?”

“What?” We?

“Yeah. Me and a couple of the boys. We thought you just weren't comfortable with telling anyone yet so we laid off for a bit. Hell, we even thought you were dating. But apparently not.”

And—what?

Brendan now doesn't know what to do next, so he sits on the corner of Nate's bed. He places his head in his hands and lets out a deep breath. It could be minutes before Brendan breaks the silence that consumed the two boys. 

“What do I do?”

Nate doesn't say anything, just gestures for Brendan to continue. He does.

“First, I yell at him, then I insult him, then I kick him out of his seat, then after I'm done being an idiot, I realize I'm in love with him and just fucked everything up.” Brendan stands up and starts pacing across the carpeted floor. 

“And I mean, this should be great. I just discovered I'm in love with my best friend and surely he feels the same, right?" Nate shrugs at that. Well, he did think they were already dating. Brendan continues. "No one acts that way. Alex doesn't act that way. Around anyone. It's the only explanation. So this should be great. Why isn't it great?”

“Because you're an idiot.” Nate wastes no time in sugar coating what Brendan already knew.

Still, he stops pacing to throw Nate a glare. “Thanks.”

Nate stands up and walks over to Brendan. “No seriously man. Yes, you messed up, yes, it sucks, but you being here, pacing up and down my hotel room is not going to solve anything. So get the fuck out and fix it.”

Almost as soon as he finishes, Brendan is dashing across the room to the door. He reaches the doorknob and swings it open. He's going to talk to Alex. He's going to fix this. He has to. He has to.

No sooner than Brendan steps out of Nate's room does he hear his name being called. He's about to ignore it, Nate can talk to him later again, but something pulls on his shirt, preventing him from walking any further.

“Woah, man. Where do you think you're going?” Nate is behind Brendan, hand clasped onto Brendan's upper arm. 

“To talk to Alex. Like you said.” The obvious duh being heard in his tone.

Nate laughs, but it doesn't sound humorous. “Yeah. How about doing that when it's not 2:30 in the morning.”

“What?”

Surely enough when Brendan checks his phone, 2:27am flashes back at him. “Fuck.”

“Alright, now go to your room and you can be Prince Charming tomorrow.”

Brendan nods, they exchange quick goodbyes, and then he's entering his own room. His tiredness finally catches up to him and seconds after his head hits his pillow, he slips and falls into a dreamless sleep. Tomorrow will be fine, it'll be fine.

***

It's not fine. First off, he wakes up late for practice. If it wasn't for Nate's excessive banging on his door, he'd most probably be benched for tonight's game. Secondly, Alex is still not talking to him and Brendan finds out that he already left for the arena, meaning he missed another chance to fix things. He rushes through getting ready, meeting Nate outside, and they both jog to the arena, just a few blocks away.

They arrive a couple minutes late, but he sees that Therrien and Pacioretty are in conversation so he's sure they've gotten away with it. Still, he rushes through putting his gear and skates on, trying to catch up to Alex, who has not looked his way since he arrived. The whole team must think it's strange, as they keep throwing confused looks between the two of them. PK gives him a "what the fuck" look but Brendan just shrugs. He can explain later.

Brendan gets on the ice and skates to catch up with Alex, who's skating laps around the rink. He gets near enough to call out to him.

“Alex! Wait up!”

He's sort of expecting him to continue skating—ignoring Brendan in the process. So he's really not prepared for when Alex stops suddenly, sending Brendan straight into his back. This sends them both crashing to the floor, landing in a small heap. Brendan falls on top of Alex's back, and he hears him let out a small “oof”. Normally, Brendan would hop right up and make fun of Alex for being so clumsy, just to get a rise out of him. But now, Brendan is quick to jump up and start apologizing. He doesn't need this to be added to Alex's "list of reasons to hate Brendan Gallagher". 

He offers out his hands to the taller man, who still lay on the ice, with his resting grumpy face on. Alex takes both his hands and Brendan lifts him up, off the ice. He even begins to dust off the front of Alex's jersey, but cuts his motions short. Too far. 

Alex's not looking at him, but Brendan can see the tips of his ears and cheeks that have now turned a rosy pink. God, he's so cute, Brendan lets himself think, before he's back to apologizing again.

“It's alright,” Alex offers a closed mouth smile. It's not exactly the smile that Brendan wanted to see but, he'll take it.

Still, Brendan finds himself apologizing once more, just for good measure.

“Hey,” Alex places a hand on Brendan's shoulder and squeezes. “It's fine.” He smiles once more, this time a wide—and beautiful—smile, and oh, there it is. The butterfly feeling in Brendan's stomach that he's only heard of in movies. Ones he and Alex used to watch together; in Brendan's apartment, under thick covers, their bodies being glued together from shoulder to knee. The warmth of their bodies filling in for Brendan's busted heating system, which Alex has offered to help fix many times but Brendan would much rather not have a fire started in his home, resulting from Alex's lack of skills as an electrician. Plus, he gets to cuddle with Alex, so who's even complaining?

Brendan looks away from Alex's smile—or more specifically, tears his eyes away—and offers his own smile. After a couple of beats, he realizes that they're just staring at each other's faces and smiling. Their teammates keep on skating by, some shooting confused looks, others smirking at the two. Brendan suddenly feels awkward and unsure of what to do, what to say. Nate's words during the walk to the arena were “just walk up to him, yell sorry, grab his face and kiss him”, and well, easier said than done, when you're in the actual situation. 

“Do you want to go for lunch after practice?” Brendan hears himself say. It's not the apology he was meaning to give but he figures that they shouldn't do this right here, right now. Lunch would be the perfect opportunity to end this once and for all.

Alex's smile falters a little but he still answers with a “sure”, and there goes Brendan's stomach again.

He skates off afterward, leaving Brendan to linger his eyes on Alex as he skates, blades cutting through the clean, shiny ice. He leans forward as he moves his legs, with such precision and focus displayed on his face. And well, if Brendan has found a new obsession with the way Alex skates, no one has to know.

***

“Good practice today, boys! Head back to the hotel and rest up for tonight's game!”

The whole team dragged themselves to the locker room after practice ended and started peeling off their gear. Everyone had to be strong out there this morning, if they wanted to play better. Coming from a team that's not playing their best right now is tough, but they have to keep working hard and practicing for the next game. They can't think about standings or losing streaks. All Brendan can do now is focus on the game against the Chicago Blackhawks tonight.

And Alex Galchenyuk.

Brendan would like to say that he wore off his nerves during practice, but the moment he sat down to untie his skates, the uneasy feeling returned. Alex was quicker than him, already shuffling with a couple of the other guys towards the showers. Brendan sighs and shifts his gaze back to his skates; one of them still tied. He only looks up when he notices someone else's skates in his field of view.

“You alright, Gally?” PK looks concerned. He's been throwing glances Brendan's way for the entirety of practice, so Brendan was expecting this to say the least.

He nods, “Yeah, man. Everything's good.”

PK nods but doesn't make any effort to walk away. “And Chucky?”

Brendan stills. He's sure that no one's listening in—they're all chattering and chirping each other, paying no attention to Brendan or PK—but they all must've seen the obvious tension between him and Alex during practice.

“He's—uh. He's good. Yeah.”

“You two break up?”

Brendan looks up at PK's face. He's sure that he's joking, chirping them for being so codependent once again, but there's nothing humorous about his expression. 

He looks concerned, Brendan realizes after a beat, letting out a small choking sound without meaning to. PK hears it and suddenly looks uncomfortable, as if he spilled some big secret. Brendan can only make himself shake his head, still unable to speak.

PK continues. “Sorry. I know you guys didn't wanna say anything. We kind of figured it out on our own but we want to let you know that we're all here for you, and we support you. Who you are, who you date, it doesn't matter, man. You're still my bros. And whatever happened between you and Chucky, I'm sure you'll figure it out.”

Brendan only nods. He could deny it and tell them all right now that he and Alex weren't dating at all, but he can't. He doesn't want to.

PK gives him a pat on his back, a half smile, and then he's on his way to his own locker. Brendan rushes through half throwing, and half gently placing his gear, before heading off to the showers. He doesn't want to keep Alex waiting.

***

The restaurant that Brendan picks for lunch is a 10 minute walk from the arena. They decide to walk instead of splitting a cab, side by side, shoulders bumping against one another every so often. The snow on the ground sticks to the sole of Brendan's shoes, and he stuffs his hands deeper into his pockets, cursing himself for forgetting to bring his gloves. He turns his head to glance at Alex, concluding that he does in fact look more beautiful like this. Cheeks pink from the cold wind, head stuffed into the collar of his coat, snow falling onto his hair while it frames his face. Brendan wants to take a picture, of Alex like this, and hang it in his room. He wonders if that'll be creepy or not.

“Uh—Bren?”

Brendan snaps out of his thoughts and realizes that Alex is now staring at him oddly. He turns his head to the side and sees that they've reached the restaurant and he's blocking him from opening the door. He gives an apologetic smile, opening the door for Alex to walk in first, using the manners his mother taught him. He walks in, expression unreadable, and Brendan mentally slaps himself in the face. He's already made a fool of himself and their lunch-hopefully-date hasn't even started. 

They make their way to a booth in the back and there's an awkward moment where they both go for the same side, but Brendan quickly moves away, mumbling a “sorry” and giving the seat to Alex. He slides into the seat opposite, keeping his head low, then glances around for a waiter. The restaurant is pretty much empty, with the exception of the couple by the window and the old woman at the bar. Brendan catches the waiter's eye, and watches as he makes his way over. He knows what Alex is going to order before he has even opened his mouth. Still, Brendan has to bite down on his tongue, not wanting to yell out that he already knew that Alex would order that sandwich. He knew that there has to be no tomatoes and extra mayo. He could even tell you which flavour milkshake Alex would order—strawberry—because he knows Alex. 

The waiter happily notes the full order while Brendan continues to glare at the napkin in front of him. Once he turns his attention to Brendan, the older man huffs out his order of a similar sandwich, and a chocolate milkshake for himself. Each of them thank the waiter and then he's off, leaving the two boys alone.

Brendan can see Alex move uncomfortably in his seat, reaching for his glass of water. Brendan does the same, mostly needing to just do something with his hands. He gives himself a few moments to breathe before he opens his mouth to begin.

“Look, Alex-”

“Why do you hate me?”

Alex's voice is small, barely audible, but it stops Brendan short. The younger man is now shifting in his seat and won't meet his eyes. He suddenly looks so small, even though he has at least three full inches on Brendan, and Brendan wants nothing more than the climb over the table between them, wrap Alex into his coat, and never let go.

“I—what?” Brendan instantly finds his voice and shakes his head. Alex can't seriously believe that, he can't. 

“I don't hate you, come on,” he says. Brendan means to sound serious and like he means it, because he does, but Alex’s only answer is a low snort as he takes another sip of his water.

“Then why—”

Brendan interrupts Alex before he says another word. This has been going on for too long and he truly believes that there might not be another moment to tell Alex about this. So, Brendan takes a deep breath, and focuses his eyes on Alex’s face, his cheeks no longer tinted with pink now that they’ve been inside for a while. This is it. 

“I was angry on the bus and I had no reason to talk to you like that, it was a real dick move, but you were just at the wrong place at the wrong time and then you started ignoring me and I didn’t even know how to apologize,” Brendan starts, feeling his leg place itself between both of Alex’s. “Then, it just hit me how much I like you and how different it is when we don’t talk to each other. I want you close, I need you close. So I guess all I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry,” he adds, the usual grin on his face absent. 

His leg begins to bounce as he stares at Alex, whose glance is on him too and they share a few smiles before Alex starts talking. Brendan sits there, expecting the worst. 

“I understand. All forgiven,” he says, nicely. “I-Uh, this is embarrassing but I like you too. A lot.”

“Yeah?” Brendan asks as he feels the tips of his mouth tilt up into a lopsided smile. He takes Alex’s hand from across the table and twines their fingers. “Are you going to do anything about it?” 

Alex only hums. 

Brendan smiles as he spots the waiter from the corner of his eye, walking towards their table with their orders. He sets the plates down, notices their clasped hands, and smiles, the aforementioned tension now disappeared.

Their lunch is spent with fond looks and shy smiles, the only words being shared when Brendan reaches across and steals two fries from Alex's plate.

"You have your own, stupid," Alex says, but doesn't really seem to care anyway.

"Yours looked better," Brendan shrugs while sporting a devious smile, which Alex just rolls his eyes at. The rest of their meal flows easy, and Brendan feels lighter and happier, like he just scored a game winning goal in the dying seconds of the third period. He thinks this is much better than that. Being here with Alex, joking around, it's the best feeling in the world for him.

Later on, when they exit the restaurant doors, the snow is falling quicker. They hold hands as they start the walk to the hotel, Brendan bumping his shoulder into Alex's, and laughing when he receives back a glare. He walks forward but all his focus is to his left, where the taller man is smiling to himself, while he stuffs his head deeper into his scarf. Brendan becomes so distracted that he barely misses the end of the sidewalk. He stumbles forward, nearly falling, but a hand shoots out and wraps itself around his waist.

“Watch where you're going, dummy," Alex says, tightening his grip on Brendan's waist. 

Brendan shoves his chest. “You're the dumb one.”

“Your face is dumb.”

Brendan laughs at Alex's terrible comeback, dodging out of the way when he raises an arm to punch Brendan's shoulder. The two boys smile at each other until Alex blushes, fitting his mouth and cheeks back into his scarf. Brendan stares longer than he means to, but no one should really blame him. Alex looks wonderful in the snow, and that's when Brendan realizes he won't have to take a picture. The real thing is much better anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are appreciated!! :)


End file.
